#@i-used-to-wear-the-fredora

[theburningsensationofpoetry]

Part one Medusa Jeremy @i-used-to-wear-the-fedora

Michael Mell didn’t know the world outside of memories.

From the ages of 2 up, he has suffered from an incurable blindness. But from the memories in his foggy mind he can make out a picture in His mind.

Like for example, old flowers he used to see when he was young, purple Lilies, pink roses, white Daisies. He remembered vividly the mossy stream in the backyard, the tall ominous trees filling the void of the forest, and the golden mushrooms around the place.

Now while he’s in a place of darkness, he can only imagine what he sees. Michael wishes now that he had the chance to take a moment and see with his eyes when he was younger. it would make things a lot easier today.

He starts to feel at the grass below him, imagining the green crisp light that reflects. In his fingertips, dirt smooshes around, it makes him see the light brown that’s rough against the skin. A short late summer wind blows upon his skin, cold and soothing against the sweat he’s had from the day. He can imagine all thing beauty in the world, all the golden hues, the red, the blue, all the colors of the world. A joy fills his heart.

The image soon fades away, along with his joy to remember.

It was days like this he despised being bling. Hell he doesn’t even know what his parents look like.

It’s not fun, constantly trying to listen, feel, and smell for things to eat aren’t fun.

But he knows it’s okay because his parents are beautiful inside and out. His mom's love him, and he knows that’s all that matters. Right?

He feels a cold wind hit him, with a smell of prey along with it.

Which reminds him, his stomach grumbles. ‘Need food’ he thinks before getting up and ready.

Swiftly his hands graze across the grass, feeling the wind go across, his finger tips.

Slowly he walked with the wind, following the distant sounds of bugs chirping and birds buzzing.

In the farthest his ears can listen, he hears distant howls, of his mothers. Signaling to come back to the den. Which is fine, but of course he doesn’t want to sleep through the huger, and it would totally embarrass him if he would have to ask his moms for food.

He should totally be able to feed himself, blind or not, their are a lot of animals who can defend blind.

As another gust of wind hits he starts to run, fast.

The wind puts a anticipation into him, just running free on all fours as he feels his way around.

His hands are chapped and rough, from all the years of running and feeling he no longer has smooth hands.

His hands became tough to protect him from sharp objects that could come in contact with his skin.

Distantly, he knew he heard the sound of rushing water, deer, rabbits, and other creatures could be there for his taking.

His feet are the same, but curved as if an animal instinct has traveled from his brain and actions to his physical body. Overtime he had changed from more of an….creature than human.

He is human, but from the way he had to live, his hands became slightly bigger, his feet are flexible and curved, and teeth slightly pointed. These are all things he can feel, there’s not telling what else has changed with him.

He c-

Wait.

He swiftly hit the floor, stopping. A cold shiver rushes over him.

Food

A large animal, he can smell, furry, fragile. Is around. Must be a dear, or something.

Near the waters of what he listens to be a stream. A deer drinking cold misty water.

Good.

Michael was starving and ready to pounce into action. he was about to do his sneak attack to eat the so called dear, a feeble cry out of nowhere was heard.

Michaels eyebrows furrowed.

There is was again, a sob. Not a sob of unrequited love, not sorrow. Maybe. Perhaps. Self pity? No. Remorse. It was hard, he never heard this kind of cry for help before.

Huffing, he figured the deer could wait. Even though it could be gone by the time he’s back, this. This thing crying needed someone. Anyone.

His hands hit the ground firmly as he was greeted with a wall?

He let out a struggled whimper as he cupped his face.

Rocks? This close to a stream. Wait no he remembers his moms telling him something in their howls.

A den! That’s what this was.

Humanity created customized dens, the person crying must be human like him. This immediately sets a spark of joy through his body.

His feet take him through a small opening, which reveals a cold rocky cave. To Michael it was cold. Smooth. Hard place to live.

The crying drew closer, but eventually came to a stop once he heard

“S-stop! Who’s ever their go away!!” The same voice that was crying, was acting feeble. Was yelling, voice was breaking.

Michael let out a puff as he continued his way to the crier.

“Me. Not hurt you.” Michael stated without a beat. Since he did have human parents he did remembers some things about English. A couple words, Not good though if you read that sentence he had said.

“I’m-I’m going to hurt you! Please leave!” The voice of the upset boy cracked.

Michael eventually reached the boy, putting his hands onto the boys face by accident.

“Small. You small.” Michael buffed trying to find the boys hands. Downwards.

He eventually found them, and found it curiously weird that these hands were smooth and oily like a snake.

“You sad. Be happy.”

“Y-your not Stone?”

Michaels face scrunched up and he shook his head.

“A-are is. Am I dreaming?” Jeremy questioned breathlessly.

Michael shook his head once again.

“Y-your naked!” Jeremy realized letting go of Jeremy’s hands.

“Hmph?” Michael was engulfed in a large cloth? That tumbled him over.

“Sorry!!!” The boy longsted his ‘s’making him sound snake like. He helped Michael up, helping Michael balance. “Uh, my names jeremy. What’s yours?” Michael wasn’t letting go of Jeremy’s hands, afraid he would fall.

“M-m-mical. Mwibal. Meekal.” Michael huffed in annoyance and growled at his lack of syllables he could say.

“Michael?”

Michael nodded with a puff coming out of his mouth.

“Y-your looking at my bottom half, I don’t think y-you like snakes ha.” Jeremy commented grabbing his hands back from Michael, fidgeting his fingers around his hand.

Michael shook his head laughing lightly.

“B-bl-ind. ind! Ind!” Michael was having troubles prounaacating these words due to being raised by no speaking she-wolves. But he was trying his best.

“Blind?”

“Mhm”

“Blind...oh! Y-you can’t see?”

Michael nodded once more with a giddy smile on his face.

“Why are you rying?” Michael asked with a serious look on his face.

“Why I am crying?” Jeremy let out a small laugh. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Hm?”

“I mean, your pretty! I was kinda pretty. Now. Now I’m a freak. I don’t get why you're even here..”

“Y’our rying.”

“Oh right.” Jeremy forced a laugh from. “I just. Want to. To he me again.”

“Y’o are you. ‘Ust canged.”

“Changed?”

“Ya.”

“W-well, well while you're here w-would you like food?” Jeremy asked and as cue michaels stomach rumbled. “I’ll take that as a yes.” Jeremy chuckled softly.

Somehow, Michael couldn’t explain it. But it sent a new emotion in him.

Michael heard a slither and was greatly confused.

“You coming?”

“You move like sake?”

“I am a snake.”

“Oh!”

“That’s not a problem right?” Jeremy mumbled with a terrible tremble in his voice. It sounded heart broken.

“No! ‘Ust coros.”

“Coros? Wait curious?”

“Ya ya!”

Jeremy went towards him.

“Can you say cure.”

“Ceer.”

“No cure.”

“Ceer cure! Cure!” Michael smiled.

“Okay now say es.”

“Es.”

“Cure...es.”

“Cure es..”

“Now uh add an i and curious.”

“Curesz. Curious! Curious!” Michael grinned like a child running around. “I did it I did it!”

“Yeah, ha. Let’s get you food.”

“‘Arving.”

“We’ll work on pronunciation later.”